Remembrance
by How It Really Ends
Summary: Castle wants to know why Beckett is so preoccupied with a newspaper and an unmowed lawn. A/U. Set in season 2, sometime after "Sucker Punch."


Remembrance

This story was inspired by Nathan Fillion and Stana Katic, whose performances continually make me laugh, cry, and ponder the meaning of love; the posters at CastleTV, whose insights into the show and characters never cease to amaze, challenge, and reassure me; and particularly Writer-of-Wrongs, whose insightful comments on a certain topic bear close witness to my own experience.

* * *

_What the hell is wrong with this thing?_

Castle pressed the button hard, even though it was already lit. He couldn't understand why the elevator always seemed so slow on the way up. But he'd tough it out as long as he could before asking one of the maintenance guys, who were probably in on whatever plot Beckett and the boys had cooked up. The doors finally opened to the precinct and he stepped out, quickening his pace as Kate came into view.

"Good morning, Detective – " he stopped as he realized she was on the phone.

"What about security camera footage? A night watchman?" He set her coffee down and waited as she listened to the response. "Didn't anyone see anything?" Another pause. "That's a real shock, considering that crew of idiots can't even keep the grass cut." _Lawn mowing? _he wondered. _What in the world is she on about?_ "Look," she continued, "I don't have time for your excuses. Just tell me how bad – " she stopped. "What do you mean, you're still assessing the situation? Have you personally gone out there to see the damage?" She was pacing now, growing more and more agitated. "No, I'm not going to just go take a look for myself. I need to know what to expect. Can you give me that information or not?...Fine, then who can tell me – Okay, how do I reach him?" She scrambled for a pen and paper, which Castle quickly found and put into her hands. "Got it," she said, writing down the information. "Thanks. For nothing," she added as she disconnected the call and turned to the open newspaper on her desk.

"Beckett?"

"Hi, Castle." She returned to her reading.

He nudged the coffee toward her and gestured to the paper. "Morning news without proper caffeination? You are an insult to the name of coffee lover, Detective."

"I'll drink to that." He watched as she picked up the coffee and drank half of it in one long swig.

"Uh…" He hesitated. "You want me to stiffen that up for you?"

"Why? You got some?" He expected to see her usual eyeroll and half-smile as she spoke, but she avoided his gaze as she chugged the rest of the coffee. This wasn't about a case, he realized. Something else was bothering her, which meant he had a job to do.

"Busted," he said. "But I'll go you one better. I just figured out what I'm getting you for Christmas."

"Great."

"Don't you want to know what it is?"

"No, but you're going to tell me anyway."

"An iPad." He smiled, waiting for the righteous outrage he knew was forthcoming.

"No, you're not," she said, shaking her head.

"Yes, I am."

"Castle, you are not buying me a $500 Christmas present."

"Am too."

"Are not."

"Am too." Did she not remember, he wondered, that he'd raised a young child and could play this game all day?

"Are n– " She sighed. "All right, fine. I'll ask. Why do you want to get me an iPad?"

"Are you kidding? I load it up with my collected works, maybe a few well-chosen PR shots, and you are set for life. You can take me wherever you go."

"I thought I already did." But her slight smile was encouragement enough.

"Seriously, though, this…" he said, picking up a corner of the newspaper, "…is ridiculous." He glanced down at it, trying to see what had her so distracted. But before he could find the answer she took it out of his hand, folded it in half, and placed it under a stack of unfiled reports on her desk. "Ha! You know I'm right because you're ashamed to be seen reading it." _Or you don't want me to know what you were reading,_ he thought.

"I would have thought someone who makes his living off the written word would have a little more respect for it."

"Eh…" he shrugged. "Only when the words are mine." She rolled her eyes – _thank God_ – and headed toward the break room. "What?" he asked as he got up to follow her. "Everyone else's are boring."

"Good thing I never sent you all that fan mail I wrote."

That stopped him in his tracks. "Oh, my God. Really?" She shot him the teasing grin that was equal parts promise and torture as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

"What kind of fan mail was it? Gushing about my literary prowess? Or maybe…" He tilted his head and looked her over as another thought occurred to him. "Speculating about prowess of a different sort?" He knew she'd never tell him if it was true, much less tell him what she wrote. But the thought of her saying the things he'd read from some of his more ardent female fans was so –

He cleared his throat, suddenly aware of the need to refocus his thoughts, and found her face a few inches from his. "You know, Castle," she said, "I've been a fan of yours for a while now, and I have to admit that sometimes…" As her eyes roamed his face and lingered on his mouth, he felt his breath catch in his chest. "…You are exactly what I always thought you were." She turned back to the counter with a triumphant look.

_Rookie mistake, Beckett,_ he thought. "So…handsome, charming, and funny, then." Her mouth dropped open and he could see she was about to protest. "But only sometimes," he said, holding up his hand. "Got it."

"Sure, if by sometimes you mean not at all." She walked back to her desk, coffee in hand.

"So who are the idiots?" he called out after her.

"The what?"

"Whoever you were insulting a few minutes ago. Something about them not mowing the lawn?"

"The – oh." She frowned and turned her back slightly to him as she shuffled through papers on her desk. "Nothing."

"Not nothing. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just…" She sighed. "I have to make a phone call."

"Okay," he said as he sat down. "Don't mind me."

"Actually, I do mind. It's a personal call." She nodded toward the elevator.

"Oh. Right," he said as he jumped up. "I'll just, uh… I'll see you in a few." _Right after I treat myself to a newspaper,_ he thought. He left, briefly glancing back to see Beckett leaning forward in her chair, elbows on her knees, gripping the coffee cup tightly in one hand as she punched numbers into her cellphone with the other.

After he picked up that day's paper, Castle headed into a coffee shop. He wanted a few minutes to read and he figured with the kind of day Beckett seemed to be having, she might need another hit. He took a seat in the corner and started skimming the articles, trying to remember what section he'd seen her reading. A few minutes later a headline caught his eye. _Local Cemetery Vandalized,_ it read. The article went on to describe the damage done to Shady Grove Memorial Gardens – sod torn up, flower bouquets from mourners strewn around, markers overturned or covered with spray paint. Then it all made sense. Uncut grass, damage she didn't want to see…_This has to be it,_ he thought. _This must be where Johanna is buried._

Castle never brought up the subject of Beckett's mother, never talked about Johanna unless Kate mentioned her first. He hoped in time Beckett would crack the door just a hairline further and confide in him again, as she'd done on such rare occasions. But until then, he was determined to stick to his promise of not doing anything unless she wanted him to. He sat for several minutes, considering. Beckett had made it clear she didn't want to discuss it, but it seemed wrong not to tell her he suspected what had happened and wanted to help if she'd let him. _Maybe I could ask – just once,_ he thought. _See if she needs anything, then let it go. If she's angry, she's angry. At least I'll have tried._ It was so little – so much less than he wanted to do, and lesser still than she deserved, but it would have to be enough. He ordered Beckett's coffee and headed back to the precinct.

She was off the phone when he got back, gathering her jacket and car keys. "Hey," he said as he handed her the coffee. "Got you another one."

"Thanks. But why did you – "

"Seemed like you were having one of those days."

"Yeah," she said, contemplating the cup in her hands. "Look…I'm sorry, but something's come up. I have to go out for a while. Can I just catch up with you later?" She started toward the elevator.

"Beckett, wait – before you go – " She turned around. "Please don't be angry with me, but…I read the article. The cemetery that was vandalized."

"Damn it, Castle," she said, shaking her head. "I didn't ask you to – "

"Shady Grove Memorial Gardens," he interrupted. "That's where your mom…" She nodded.

"Just hear me out," he said. "I'll ask this once, and then I'll leave you alone." He drew a deep breath. "Is there anything at all that I can do?" _Please say yes,_ he begged. _Even if it's just making your coffee runs the rest of the day._

She was quiet for a long moment. He waited, not wanting to push her. "Could you…" she stopped. "Could you come with me?"

* * *

Chapter 2 coming soon. Like it? Hate it? Lemme know…


End file.
